Soulmates and Sweetrolls
by yurai-shin
Summary: Aicantar never thought he would leave the confines of the Understone Keep and away from his Uncle's work, until he met a strange girl half Nord and half Breton who changed his life, and led him to places he never dreamed possible.


Hallucinations

* * *

"Are you okay?"

Aicantar looked up from his alchemy table, his gold toned hands resting against the glowing symbols on the polished wood, and was greeted by an unfamiliar face. The woman was tall, a Nord or perhaps Imperial, and was undeniably beautiful. However, the Altmer was taken back by her question, and stared at her for a moment before collecting his thoughts.

"I…of course" he stammered, straightening up. He turned to face the woman, his purple robes rustling softly. "Why would you…?"

"I don't think you're as happy as you could be," the woman replied quietly, smiling sadly at him. Her clear blue eyes stared intro his own golden eyes with an intensity that made him squirm uncomfortably; he felt like he was being examined, and Aicantar swallowed nervously.

"Hello?"

The young elf blinked, and at once the sounds in the Understone Keep came back full force, and he realized it had been quiet only moments before. Flinching as the noise assaulted his sensitive hearing, he looked up, greeted by the same face, and his mind reeled. The woman was still standing in front of him, but he was bent over his table again, his hands still resting on the warm polished surface. She blinked, staring at him with a quizzical expression, and Aicantar felt just as confused.

"I'm sorry what?" He asked, straightening up for what seemed like the second time, his stomach churning.

"I asked if you know where I can find Calcelmo, I assume you work with him?" The woman gestured over to the other worktable, which was void of the older Altmer; and Aicantar shook his head slightly, trying to rid the strange feeling that had washed over him.

"Oh, right. Calcelmo is my uncle, he should be back shortly."

"Okay great! Mind if I wait for him?"

"Not at all," Aicantar replied meekly, embarrassed by his odd behavior, and he watched the young woman shuffle over to the stone bench and slump down with a happy sigh. She was laden with several packs, most of which looked to be at it's maximum capacity, a large wooden shield and quiver strapped to her back, as well as a bow. A long sword hung at her hip and she appeared to be wearing either scaled or leather armor. Aicantar was not an expert in types of armor, so he could not truly say which she wore, and instead he quickly gave her the once over, noting her pretty face, before turning back to his work. _What happened back there?_ His mind kept questioning, and it made things hard to concentrate, as well he kept consciously remembering the woman seated behind him.

The woman relieved her tired body of some of her burden and weakly rubbed her sore back. She was feeling the most drained she had felt in weeks, and was starting to think her business with the researcher Calcelmo could have waited until the morning, but she was here now, and waited it out. Perhaps five minutes, or an hour passed, and the woman was starting to doze off where she sat when the Altmer finally came back.

"Aicantar, boy, could you— who's this?"

Aicantar turned to see the woman scramble clumsily to her feet and hold out her hand to his Uncle. He looked quite similar to the Altmer, except Calcelmo was older and his hair had begun to turn white with age and he kept neatly groomed facial hair to match.

"Calcelmo, I apologize for intruding," she spoke softly, bowing her head. "I am Niena, and I wished to speak with you."

"Niena," Calcelmo replied distractedly, briefly shaking her hand. He turned to his table and unpacked his satchel of ingredients, neatly arranging them on the space. "What is it you want?"

"I just wished to see if there were any work you needed help with…I…I love Dwemer ruins, and I thought I could offer my services."

"Do you?" Calcelmo replied, his golden eyes brightening, and he turned back to Niena with curiosity. "What can you do girl?"

"Well, nothing to really benefit your research specifically, but I can fight, which is always useful when scaling a Falmer-infested ruin."

Calcelmo laughed, something he didn't do quite often, and the older Altmer gripped Niena's arm, grinning at her.

"That is indeed useful to me," he replied after a moment, "It is always risky business dealing with the creatures."

"Whatever you need cleared, I'll do it first thing tomorrow," Niena replied happily, and she beamed at him.

"Oh dear, yes, please! There is a blasted frostbite spider in Nchuand-Zel, Nimhe, and I cannot conduct my excavations with it still alive! Kill it, and you'll be granted access to my museum, as well as Nchuand-Zel itself."

"It will be done," Niena replied firmly, and she turned around to retrieve her belongings.

"Do you have some place to stay?" Calcelmo inquired, intrigued by the bright-eyed woman, she was so eager to help, and it fascinated him. Not many people took interest in the Dwemer; the subject was boring, dry, useless…

"Uh no, I figured I'd just go to the Inn—"

"Nonsense! My apartment has more than enough room for another person, you must stay with us."

Niena glanced over at Aicantar, who was pretending not to listen to their conversation, and instead stared intently at his table.

"Oh, well, thank you then."

"Show her the way Aicantar, I'll be there shortly."

Aicantar sighed, but straightened up, stretching his arms above him until his back pleasantly cracked, and then motioned for Niena to follow him.

"Do you need…?"

"No no, I got it!" Niena waved her hand, and quickly gathered up her packs. She followed behind the man, struggling to make her legs move as they felt like lead and her eyelids suddenly felt like a thousand pounds. Aicantar made his way past the hallway leading up to the Jarl's quarters; his dark robes rustling around his ankles, up a set of stairs and around the corner through a set of heavy double doors.

"This is the museum, I guess my Uncle doesn't care if you see it before dealing with Nimhe," Aicantar told the woman, feeling a little uncomfortable around her. He was still baffled at his apparent hallucination, and thought that Niena was having some sort of affect on him he couldn't really comprehend. Niena laughed, but was blown away by the sheer amount of artifacts Calcelmo had retrieved from ruins, as she stared with wide eyes and her mouth slightly hanging open. Aicantar chuckled to him self; he was slightly amused by her amazement at a bunch of Dwemer cogs and spheres; and continued his way past the displays and through the set of doors across the room, greeting the few guards that were patrolling the area.

Niena followed Aicantar into the Altmer's living quarters, and was lead into what appeared to be a dining room and the man stopped.

"Don't touch that!" Aicantar cried, turning around to see Niena's hand outstretched towards a pressure plate on the wall behind her. Niena startled and quickly retracted her arm, and rubbed her neck; feeling her face flush with embarrassment.

"I am truly sorry, I was not thinking."

"It's okay I just…you could have been hurt…"

"I should have realized that, I'm sorry."

"Y-you can stay here," Aicantar replied quickly, pointing to the room to his left. Niena nodded, and avoiding his gaze nearly ran into the room and shut the door before dumping her belongings on the hard stone bed. Relieving her aching body of her weapons and shield, she stripped her dirty leather off and changed into a fresh pair of pants and tunic. Niena tied her hair back, not bothering to run her hands through the dark brown locks and try to detangle some of it, and then made her way to where Aicantar sat at the table with a bowl of grapes in his hand. He had pushed his hood back, revealing to Niena a handsome elvish face with a long and prominent nose and beautiful jaw-line. For a moment Niena studied him without the Altmer noticing, he had high cheekbones and deep-set golden eyes shoulder length hair of the same pretty colour. She thought he was beautiful, and she was grateful he had removed his hood, and wondered why he wore it to begin with.

"So you live with your Uncle?" Niena asked, and Aicantar's head snapped up to look her. She had changed into a plain set of breeches and tunic; and her shoulder length hair had been swept back into a short ponytail, revealing pale pointed ears. He realized with a shock that Niena was Elven.

"Yes, so I can help him with his work," he replied quickly, placing the bowl down beside him. "I didn't…know you're elvish…"

"Oh." Niena sat down beside him, her head bowed slightly, and she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her pointed ear. "Yes, I am. My mother was Nord, and my father was a Bosmer."

"That is an interesting mix," Aicantar replied, trying to picture a tiny little Breton man with a tall and robust Nord woman.

"Indeed it was. My mother was taller than you, and a great swordswoman. Father was a tiny little man, but he knew alchemy like no other and loved my mother with all his heart."

"They sound like wonderful parents."

"They are, what of your parents?"

"My…they died a long time ago, that's why I ended up here in Markarth to begin with, and Calcelmo took me in."

Niena looked up at him, but she did not look like she pitied up, which he hated to receive from people, but instead she looked at him with a look of understanding. He felt a shiver creep up his spine, and he resisted looking away from her.

"I'm sorry that happened to you, I am glad your Uncle was there, and you were not orphaned."

"So am I—"

"Ah there you are! Where is that cat? She is supposed to have dinner ready by now!" Calcelmo entered into the room, pushing back his hood and smiling at the pair. "What has you looking so somber?" He asked, glancing between them.

"Oh, nothing," Aicantar replied hastily, and Niena did not say any different. Calcelmo seated himself across from Aicantar and Niena, and plucked a grape from the bowl. A couple awkward moments later a female Khajiit wearing a simply woven dress arrived bearing a heavy platter laden with food. She placed the platter on the table and unloaded the dishes, and then with a small bow she left the room again.

"Dig in Niena, Me'rah is a good cook."

Niena shot Aicantar a confused look, the Khajiit acted like a slave in her eyes, but Aicantar just shook his head and turned away from her, reaching for the roasted chicken before him. Niena kept her mouth shut and instead focused on the food before her, realizing just how hungry she was. It had been several days of meager rations, as her food supplies had gotten low since leaving Windhelm, and she eagerly helped herself to the delicious smelling food in front of her.

Dinner was quiet; Calcelmo and Aicantar were tired from a long day down at their worktables, attempting to conduct the excavation that was currently not going too smoothly. Niena was nearly falling asleep in her seat, and she had to force her self to keep her eyes open, until Calcelmo noticed her fatigue.

"Niena, you look about to sleep with your head on your plate, go to bed girl!"

"You're right," Niena mumbled, and she chuckled quietly. "I have been traveling for many days. Excuse me; I will retire for the night. Thank you for allowing me to stay here."

"Have a good sleep," Calcelmo replied, yawning loudly, and Aicantar bid her goodnight as well.

Niena retreated to her room and collapsed on the stone bed; too tired to ignore the discomfort it brought to her and would probably bring her in the morning, and swiftly fell asleep.

Aicantar laid on his own stone bed, trying to fall asleep, his arms rested beneath his head and he wore nothing but a pair of faded black breeches. He shivered in the cool air of his room and shifted onto his side, used to the lack of comfort from the stone slab he rested on; and thought about the girl sleeping in the room not far down, and how her presence resonated within him. As his eyelids started to droop and his body started relaxing from the gentle call of sleep, he thought he heard her voice.

"You know she loves you, right Aicantar?"

Aicantar opened his eyes and peered into the darkness, his voice hitching in his throat. He could not speak, but instead lay unmoving, his skin tingling, and struggled to breathe.

"She's sorry…" the voice continued quietly, which the Altmer was positive it was the half-breed woman sleeping nearby. The feelings were so foreign to him it took many hours for him to fall asleep despite his exhaustion, though Niena's voice did not speak to him again that night.

_What is wrong with me? _He asked him self over and over, until he finally settled into a restless sleep filled with strange dreams.


End file.
